Not Quite Shakespeare
by Fragments of Space
Summary: The Doctor finds Rose in the TARDIS library, trying to read something that's almost Shakespeare. Just a small, fluffy piece for 10/Rose shippers.


Rose was curled up in a library chair, feet snuggly underneath her. Next to her sat a cup of tea, and a pile of old, alien books. The Doctor was fiddling in the console room, and she wanted a quiet moment. Lately the library had become as much as a refuge for her as it was to him, and every time she entered there seemed to be a new pile of books next to, what was now, her chair.

Rose picked up the first book, tracing her fingers along the cover, and opened to a random page. She smirked a little as she read a few words. Of course the Doctor would have Shakespeare. Assuming this was Shakespeare, that is. It didn't sound very familiar. Rose read a few more lines, not noticing the Doctor enter.

"That's one of my favorites," he said, leaning against the door, hands in pockets.

Rose looked up. "Is it Shakespeare?"

"Nah, just sounds like him. Not even from Earth, actually. It is set in Elizabethan England though, funny bit of history there…"

Rose gave him a slightly amused look as he trailed off and then snapped back to attention.

"What play are you reading?" he asked her, stepping into the room properly.

"Um…" she flicked back a few pages. "'Emilia and Rulipicka.' Hold on, I thought you said it was set on Earth, yeah? Rulipicka isn't exactly… Earthy."

"Well, they were bound to get a few things wrong… Do you like it?"

"Can't really understand it to be honest," she shrugged.

"Oh well you have to read it properly to get it!" He said enthusiastically. "You'd like it! Bit of romance!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Rose blushed.

"Can you translate?" Rose asked him.

The Doctor put on his glasses and sat next to her, putting a hand on the book.

"You'll pick it up…I'll read his part, and you read hers, okay?"

Rose nodded, smiling.

He cleared his throat and began to read.

"Hast thou forgotten that this heart is thine?Faine these hands follow it swiftly, as every man, fair maiden, knows his hands are bound to his blade and his blade to his heart. If these lips spoke to raise thine hands, thine sword to thine heart I would beg only a passioned audience amongst them before obeying_._"

Rose bit her lip, staring at him. The Doctor glanced up at her.

"He's saying his heart is hers, and so are his hands and his sword," he explained in a soft voice, pointing to the words, "He would kill himself if she asked him to, as long as she kissed him first."

He went back to reading.

"This enslaved man should stare unto God himself, to quench thou's thirst and feed thee the sweetest berries, for the juice that touch thy throat is worth surrender to any injury. To merely raise sword is no burden, nay, but salvation, as these hands may tear demons upon command. This heart, this sword, is thine. Shall my lips swear it on the words of the Lord and his heavens or, pray, speak that they shall instead swear it with a kiss?"

Rose swallowed a little. "What's he saying there?" she asked, knowing he liked explaining, even though she was pretty sure she understood.

"Well," he replied, "He's telling her he's her slave, that she shouldn't feel bad about sending him into battle because he would do anything for her, and then, um, at the end he's sort of trying for a kiss." The Doctor tugged on his ear a little as he spoke.

Rose looked into his eyes for a moment, feeling more breathless than the situation called for.

"Uh, Rose?"

"Mmmm?"

"It's your line," he looked at her through his glasses.

"Oh! Right!" She turned back to the book hurriedly, and read from where he'd stopped.

"Your words, good sir, may be stolen from the pages of a book, and yet I find my stubborn heart hard to speak without repeating. My father did teach me of suitors whose lips seem to bleed red with passions of love but have still the stain of wine."

"She's telling him that even though he's _very _smooth she knows that he's probably just using someone else's words, or that he's drunk and making it up," the Doctor interrupted softly.

Rose nodded then continued. "I cannot say that thy verse is without any temptation or drawing of the mind. However thou dost speak with too much passion that I fear the burning may be doused with the love of a play."

"Oooh I like this bit," the Doctor smiled, before reading, "Ah but hark! What fond melody do I hear?It is the sweet song of her lips as they admit to sweet lady's very word, my savior, temptation!Whatever other words may carry it they are lost to my ears, for these notes hold the promise of lust."

Rose took half a second to appreciate him saying the word lust, before giving him a slightly confused look.

"Right," he said, "So he's getting cocky now, because she admitted she was a little tempted by his words… Go on, your turn," he nudged her.

_"_Your tongue is too quick to claim a prize where there is none, sir," Rose read, getting a little into character now, "I have only admitted to the beauty of your speech, not to its effect. And pray tell, where is this sword of which you speak? For my eyes only show me the empty pockets of a trickster, and thine own mother would teach thou not to wait upon the words of thief."

"She's gone back to accusing him of making it up now, that he's just trying to con her," the Doctor said quickly, before jumping back into the lines: _"_For any mother's words the only thievery is thine own,although I may often dreamt of a night where I may take thou's heart as you hast mine_. _My lady, sweet lady, if thou wishes for felicitation for thine's own larceny then you shalt have it, though I would faine offer this heart again without persuasion, as it is the only prize I have worthy of your virtuous custody."

"Help?" Rose raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah that one's a bit of a mouth full… He's saying she's stolen his heart, essentially, and that he'd offer it to her again if he could, because it's the only thing he has worthy of her."

"Right," Rose said, trying her best not to think too hard about the Doctor reading romantic speeches to her, "I'll um… my part…" She stuttered, before reading again.

"Thou speaks of thine heart as if I should feel it within mine own ribs. How shalt I test thee of this conviction?"

"If thee doth give the command for my sword then I shall raise it, or are these words too slight to reach thine ears," The Doctor responded. He glanced up at Rose. "She's telling him to prove it, and he's saying that he'll fight for her, just like he said he would at the start."

"Come then, if thy temperament allows, and follow the call of your king," Rose said, "Your return, if prosperous, should prove this speech and I, good woman of my word, should return it with equal force and measure, but only then, as I do not tread lightly in the ways of the heart."

"Now she's saying fine, go on then, go and fight," he said, "and then if you actually come back I'll love you in return… And then he says: Oh if my legs were wings I could not fly with too much haste!"

The Doctor closed the book. "And scene!"

"'S beautiful," said Rose, "really lovely. I feel a bit silly not understanding it all though."

"Nah, Elizabethan English, may as well be a different language… Anyway, you sounded lovely."

"Really?"

"Oh, um, I mean, for a, for a good try- I mean for a first try it was good. Yes."

Rose was torn between frowning and laughing. "Right," she nodded. "Thanks."

The Doctor nodded, looking mildly uncomfortable, before jumping back out of the seat.

"Right! Rose Tyler! Places to go!" He went to walk out of the room, but Rose put a hand on his arm.

"Could you read me something else?" she asked.

"Oh. Um, sure. If you like," he rubbed his neck, feeling a little nervous.

Rose beamed at him, and he couldn't help grinning back. He sat down again, not in the chair with her this time, but the one opposite her, and picked the book back up.

He flicked through the pages, before settling on one of his favorite passages. He hoped, for a second, that she really was having trouble understanding it; otherwise this would be a far too intimate moment… Even if it did feel right to read it for her.

The Doctor leant back in the chair.

"This is the same character as before," he told her, "But he's alone now, after he's admitted his love to Ro- Emilia," he corrected quickly, trying to look more casual than he felt.

Rose nodded encouragingly, apparently missing the stumble, and he smiled at her before reading.

"Sweet day, I thank thee for the sun's light, that it may shine upon my lady's face. I thank her father for her sweet and virtuous nature, her mother for the soft lips I am told she shares. Oh, I have seen the heavens through her eyes and still my tongue hast never found the words to match their beauty."

He focused hard on the words in front of him, even though he knew the verse by heart.

"Gentle woman, thou did tear me from my foolish slumber and plant my feet at the gates of heaven, only to remain behind them," he said the words softly, feeling the emotions of them wash over him as he read to her.

"How can thou seem so lovely from afar? Can thy eyes truly seem so sweet across the waters of state and circumstance that fate hast lain between us? Fain I would swim through these tides, if thou gave me reason. Easily I shalt take up sword for your name, cross these waters through blood and the claims of God, smiting perjury for the promise of sanctuary. My sweet lady hast given me her words, and her lips are holier than the lines of my lord."

Rose felt as if she was in a trance, watching him read the words so tenderly. He looked up at her and her heart fluttered, breath caught in her throat.

"Her breath is to me a heart beat," the Doctor said, eyes now locked on hers, "If it should falter my life shall be laid down beside her, to rest until she wakes."

Rose felt a little faint, as he closed the book softly.

"What did you think?" he asked, voice a little low.

"Brilliant," she said.

"Brilliant," he smiled at her.

They both seemed to get lost in each other's eyes for a moment. The Doctor cleared his throat, breaking the silence, as he put the book back on the shelf.

"Like I said," he stood up, "things to do. You coming?"

"Always," she grinned, tongue darting between her teeth, before taking the hand he held out to her.

"So," she said, as they walked to the console room, "Explain it to me."

"Oh, it's just old words," the Doctor sniffed, "Not very interesting."

"Go on," she nudged him. "I got most of it, just not the last line."

"Her breath is to me a heart beat," he repeated, "if it should falter my life shall be laid down beside her, to rest until she wakes."

"Tha's the one," Rose said, London accent strong.

"Well," he said, suddenly very conscious of his hand in hers, stroking it with his thumb, "He's saying that if something happened to her, he wouldn't be able to go on. Her breath is his heartbeat. If she dies, he dies too."

Rose looked up at him; filling with emotions she weren't sure where justified.

"Really?" she asked softly, pulling them to a stop.

He looked down at her, dark eyes shining.

"Oh yes," he said.

Rose pulled him into a tight hug, resting her head in his chest, as he breathed her in deeply. She pulled away, and they looked at each other for another moment, still holding hands. The Doctor pulled away slightly, and then they walked again, as if nothing important had passed between them.

They arrived in the console room and both ran up to the center, the Doctor not dropping her hand even as he pushed buttons enthusiastically, grinning over at Rose.

It was time for a new adventure.


End file.
